


It's a Date

by Lady Divine (fhartz91)



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Dalton Academy, Drabble, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3935707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a heated argument about something near and dear to Kurt’s heart, Sebastian manages to trick Kurt into agreeing to the unthinkable.</p><p>Dalton AU, plays on the trope that Kurt is really into cars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Date

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [It's a Date](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3952294) by [Alina_Petrova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alina_Petrova/pseuds/Alina_Petrova)



“The area of the polygon, which we can actually calculate, will be an approximation to the area of the circle...” Kurt mutters to himself, putting a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the bright overhead lights of the senior commons. His head has already begun to ache because of those stupid lights, which have burned the images of the polygons he’s staring at into his retinas and probably completely washed out his complexion. But it’s a necessary evil. He has to study overtime for this test. He needs to get something higher than an eighty percent – not that eighty percent isn’t an admirable grade, but their teacher, Mr. Gruber, had mentioned last class that he was considering grading their tests on the totally barbaric and medieval bell curve. Kurt isn’t entirely convinced that Mr. Gruber didn’t let that slip as a motivational tool for some of the more lackluster students, but he can’t take that chance – not when they have started discussing limits and Kurt is getting to the point where he can barely understand what the book is talking about anymore. Kurt re-reads the same passage over in his head, the words not making any more sense than they did the first time around. When it doesn’t magically start becoming clearer, he gives up and continues on. “As we increase the number of sides -- that is, if we consider a _sequence_ of polygons…” He reads the words out loud with the same emphasis they’re written in the hopes that they’ll stick. “60 sides, 61 sides, 62, 63, 64, and so on -- then the sequence of those areas becomes closer and closer to the area of the circle. Now, the circle is never _equal_ to a polygon. But by considering a sufficiently large number of sides, the _difference_ between the circle and that polygon will be less than any small number we specify.”

Kurt sighs. It s _ounds_ like English, but other than that…

Why did he think he needed to take AP Calculus again? Are his professors at Julliard really going to say, “Perform Hamlet’s soliloquy and then discuss how it relates to Isaac Newton’s development of infinitesimal calculus.”

It’s too late to do anything about it now, so he’d better pass this class and get on with his life. He goes back to the top of the page and intrepidly starts to read from the beginning.

“The area of the polygon…”

“No! What? Are you kidding me?” Another voice echoes in from down the hallway, steadily coming closer, loudly breaking through Kurt’s concentration. “No, no, no, you can’t go see that? Why? Because it’s a total loser movie!”

Kurt snaps his head up to glare at the intruder, boisterously arguing with no one that Kurt can hear at the moment so he assumes that whoever is coming his way is talking on a cell phone. Of course, Kurt could always consider this providence and use this intrusion as an excuse to pack it in and leave (he’d been on the wall about surrendering for over an hour) but he knows he can’t stop studying with his GPA hanging on the line. He can’t retreat back to his room. The reason why he studies in the senior commons is because there are too many distractions in his room – his cell phone, his laptop, his iPod, his bed.

His bed.

Kurt blinks his blurry, crossing eyes, rubbing them as they sting and start to water.

He’s been in the senior commons, sitting in this stiff, uncomfortable chair, reading about limits for over three hours. It’s close to ten o’clock and he really misses his bed.

The voice closing in on his fortress of solitude cackles, nearly forcing Kurt to change his mind about staying, except now he’s curious. It’s Friday night. Kurt had sacrificed going out clubbing with The Warblers to stay at Dalton and study. Most of the dorm is empty, so who in the hell else would be here?

As if the universe was dying for him to find out, Sebastian rushes in, phone to his ear, laughing too much over whatever joke Kurt didn’t hear.

“You’re shitting me!” he crows. “No! You’re shitting me! You’re shitting me! I don’t care what you say, you are shitting me!”

Frustrated, Kurt slaps a hand down on his textbook.

“He’s not shitting you, Sebastian!” he announces loudly since Sebastian doesn’t seem to notice the obviously stressed out other person in the room trying to study.

Sebastian barely glances at Kurt. “Do you mind? This is a _private_ phone call.”

“Between who? You, your friend, me, and all of Greater Westerville?”

Sebastian turns his back to Kurt, unimpressed by his presence.

“Nah, man,” he practically yells into the phone. “Go see the new Fast and Furious movie…Like I care what she wants! You asked _my_ opinion…Yeah, I saw it. It’s got what’s-his-name in it. You know, with the bald head and the biceps…Right, like I need to know his name.”

Kurt clamps his hands over his ears and tries to go back to his studying, stubbornly sticking it out in the chair where he’s staked a claim.

“The area of the polygon,” he repeats to himself, his own voice filling up his ears, “which we can actually calculate…”

“No, but they had this sick-ass Lambo—what?…Fuck the GT-R. I’m down for that Lambo, all the way.”

 _That_ part of Sebastian’s conversation caught Kurt’s attention.

“Um, excuse me?” Kurt says, raising his voice to be heard by the manner-less oaf pacing the floor in front of him.

“Why? Did you fart?” Sebastian asks, then returns to his call.

Kurt sits up straight in his chair and clears his throat. He doesn’t care how many dirty looks Sebastian throws at him. Kurt has no intention of letting this pretentious ass get away with that slight.

“Are you seriously saying what I think you’re saying?”

“That you broke wind? Woof…possibly.” Sebastian waves a hand in front of his nose, then turns on his heel and walks to the other end of the room.

Kurt slams his book shut and stands from his seat, more offended at Sebastian’s insinuation that a Lamborghini can outrace even a stock GT-R.

“Have you ever _seen_ a Lamborghini?”

Sebastian stops pacing, stops talking on the phone, and smirks at Kurt with an eyebrow raised. “Yeah, Hummel,” he chuckles. “Have _you_?”

Kurt prepares to argue the merits of a massive super car with a twin-turbo V6 as opposed to a heavier V10, but then he remembers who he’s talking to. Not only is having a reasonable, intelligent debate impossible with Sebastian Smythe, but it’s Kurt’s experience that wealthy brats in general stand behind their favorite expensive toys no matter what. Kurt rolls his eyes and walks back to his book and his chair. “Ugh. Of course you have,” he groans. “What a waste.”

“As I was saying before I was so _rudely_ interrupted,” Sebastian continues over the phone. Kurt tries once again, in vain, to tune him out. But somewhere between the definitions of tangents and co-tangents, Kurt hears Sebastian say, “He’s wrong. The Lamborghini spanked that sucker GT-R so hardcore in like three races.”

Kurt laughs sharply.

“I don’t know what movie _you_ were watching, Smythe, but that absolutely did not happen.”

“Is that right?” Sebastian says between sentences.

“That’s right,” Kurt says.

“Hold on, Michael…” Sebastian puts his call on hold. He stares at Kurt, hands on hips. “Prove it.”

Kurt’s eyes shift from side to side beneath Sebastian’s cocky, judging gaze, wondering what exactly Sebastian expects him to do.

“Uh, that movie came out last weekend,” Kurt says. “It’s not like I have a copy of it.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes.

“Excuses, excuses,” he teases, preparing to return to his call. “You just don’t want to admit that your grease-head knowledge of cars is faulty, and that I, as always, am right.”

Kurt knows he should ignore Sebastian and return to important Calculus matters, but he can’t. He doesn’t know why Sebastian’s taunting suddenly has him seeing red. This is a stupid argument – asinine really. Sebastian doesn’t care about cars, not the way Kurt does. Automobiles are a way of life in the Hummel household. Kurt’s been working on cars in his dad’s shop since before he started kindergarten. He spent every weekend with his father fixing up the Bel Air his mom inherited from her grandfather – the one that would be his one of these days. Alongside his collection of _Vogue_ magazines in his bedroom at home is every issue of _Car and Driver_ put out in the last ten years. So there’s no way that Sebastian knows more about cars than Kurt. There is absolutely no way at all that a pompous, pampered jerkoff like Sebastian Smythe could be right about this and Kurt could be wrong.

But what if he is?

No. He can’t be. Kurt should let it go…but he doesn’t. He won’t let Sebastian get the upper hand this time. Sebastian might have been brought up with money and good schools and every opportunity that Kurt didn’t have, but Kurt was raised around cars. This was _his_ area of expertise.

No matter what, this is one argument he can’t let Sebastian Smythe win by default.

Kurt pulls his iPhone out of his pocket and opens a browser window, Googling the website for the Regal Cinemas in Westerville. He finds the movie, then scrolls through the movie times for the next one.

Screw Calculus. Sebastian insulted Kurt’s honor, and that demands retribution.

Kurt gets out of his chair, stopping Sebastian in his tracks by waving his phone in Sebastian’s face.

“There’s a midnight showing of Fast and Furious 9,” Kurt says with a superior grin.

Sebastian smiles.

“What are you saying, Hummel? You still trying to prove me wrong?”

“Oh, there’s no trying,” Kurt says. “You _are_ wrong. Meet me in the front lobby in one hour, unless you want to cave right now and admit defeat.”

Sebastian smiles wider, slow and devious, with a glint in his eyes like he’s already won.

“See you in an hour, Hummel,” Sebastian says with a wink. “I’ll spring for the tickets if you buy the popcorn.” He chuckles in the wake of Kurt’s venomous gaze and walks quickly out of the room.

“That’s right, Smythe,” Kurt calls after him. “We’ll go to the movies and you _will_ see! And yes, I’ll buy the popcorn!”

Kurt storms back to his chair. He shoves his book into his bag, muttering under his breath.

“Rich ass thinks a Lamborghini can actually outrace a GT-R. Yeah, right. Well, he’ll see when we get to…” Kurt’s smug smile drops from his face. “Wait…what the heck just happened?” He rushes to the door and watches a snickering Sebastian strut down the hall, the phone no longer to his ear, his call obviously finished. Kurt’s brow furrows as he thinks back on their conversation – their argument, more like – how it had started with the cars and got twisted, ending with…

Kurt’s jaw drops.

Did Sebastian trick him into agreeing to a date?

 

 

 


End file.
